Canonical host variant, near miss

Wine from my cellar at Bodenwerder improves when you insult it. I called one barrel a thin and sorry thing. It wept for a year. Then it turned so rich and dark that two bishops fought over it, and a cardinal swore he saw the face of my aunt.

Even my fleas were braver than other men's soldiers. A single squad of them held a fort in Moldavia for a month. They bit the enemy's horses, then his cooks, then his flag. I gave each one a tiny medal, and I pinned them on with my best needle.

Walrus hunting bored me, so I took up walrus diplomacy. Off Greenland I met a big old bull with a face just like my uncle's. We shared a herring, and we both said little. By dawn we had signed a trade deal. He now handles my affairs in the north.

Crabs walk sideways on account of a bet I won. Long ago they marched straight ahead like good soldiers. I wagered their king a bushel of clams that he could not pass a mirror without stopping. He turned to admire himself, got stuck that way, and his whole nation copied him.

Mustard from Dijon can lift a man clear off.